Living Proof
by jhm64892
Summary: Alicia Florrick and Will Gardner have a daughter, Rachel. The clincher? Will doesn't know she's his. All that's about to change though. Follow Rachel as she goes on a journey of self-discovery.
1. High Hopes

_"Rachel is not my biological daughter. My wife, Alicia, gave birth to her three years before I met her, that is true". _She remembers how it felt to read those words in the Chicago Tribune like it was yesterday. That's what this campaign has been about her from the moment she read them, in her dorm at college, the destruction of everything she thought was true about her life to that point.

Now, standing at the party to celebrate the culmination of all of it, she realises that she doesn't like it here. She rarely does these days, not when Peter's around – especially when he's feeling oh so victorious. Rachel would never admit it to her mother, it would break her heart to hear it, but she's still a little – okay, more than a little – bitter. She's angry that Peter ever thought it was okay to cheat. She's pissed that he hurt her mother. She's bitter because, somehow, she was the one who was tossed under the bus in the process of saving his reputation and has had to suffer all manner of humiliation as a consequence. Most of all, she thinks, she might be angry with her mother for taking him back. Alicia Florrick (nee Cavanaugh), she supposed, would always be the good wife, the one who stayed, the perfect one.

Perhaps the worst of it is that she knows something, something that could make this whole thing even worse. Rachel knows that Amber Madison wasn't the first or even the only woman Peter has slept with outside the bounds of his marriage. She knows that he slept with Kalinda while she worked in the State's Attorney's office. There's a part of her that doesn't want to tell her mom. She's seemed so happy of late. Kalinda is the first friend she's seen her mother have who doesn't appear to have some kind of secret ulterior motive for their friendship. Or, at least, she didn't seem to.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees her mother storm off, out of the apartment and briefly she wonders what could be going on. Peter re-enters the room with that winners' smile of his – the one that, when graced with it, can make you feel like the only person in the room. Rachel knows that smile, she sees through it. She tries to think it all through. There are any number of reasons why her mother could storm off out of the room like that. there are any number of reasons why her mother could storm off out of the room like that. Something could have gone wrong with a case or Peter could have simply said something stupid. Maybe it's something small and the stress entailed in a campaign has hit fever pitch in her head – it wouldn't be the first time. Rachel doesn't have time to think it all through though as she's approached by Eli Gold.

She likes Eli. He's so see-through in his intentions, it actually makes her life easier. She's sick of having to figure out what everyone wants from her. It isn't so bad at Georgetown. Outside of Chicago, Peter's not exactly known for much other than the scandal. Even those who are aware of him know that he doesn't have much to give. But she's the daughter of Saint Alicia and, for some reason, that carries more weight and meaning than you'd expect. It's there, whirring in the brains of just about everyone she talks to, it's in their eyes, barely disguised in the recesses of their brains. They want to know someone linked to somebody somewhat famous. It's difficult not to care. Eli, on the other hand, well he might be the only person who's ever bothered to be straight with her when it comes to Peter – or anything. Even her mother is cagey these days.

Rachel is broken from her internal reverie as Eli asks where Alicia went. Rachel shrugs, it's hardly her job to know her mother's every movement. Even if she did know, she's not sure she'd tell him. She watches, almost wistfully, as Peter hugs Zach and Grace – his biological children – for what feels like the billionth time tonight. Never has the difference between Rachel and her siblings been more on show or keenly felt than right now. "Think you could bring yourself to take just _one _photo with Peter?" Eli asks and all she can do is shake her head and smirk. After everything that's happened, they still need her.

"You know what Eli? I don't think I will," she sighs, breathing deep "The campaign's over. I'm not going to be Peter's pawn anymore. I just won't. I know it would make it a hell of a lot easier for you but, until the next campaign, I'm not going to do it. Even then, I'm not sure I will. I won't be the one you two trot out just because the candidate wants to look good. I won't be the one who smiles and waves and acts like everything's okay, because it's not. I can't bring myself to do that any longer. I can't just hold my tongue, not tonight anyway." As soon as she says it, Rachel feels free. She could leave – even if it's just for a few hours. It's like a weight has been lifted off her chest and she can breathe. How long has she felt like this? How long has that weight been there? Too long. There isn't much left keeping her at this damn party. Her mother left and she was only staying to save face for her. She's been getting the distinct impression all night that Peter only wants her here for the optics of it anyway. Eli might try and put a nice façade on it, but she knows, she knows what this is really about. No one would blame her for leaving. Everyone knows this campaign has been hardest on her. "Look Eli, I'm just going to go," she says, allowing a hint of resignation to seep into her tones, before turning around and leaving through the open door. She doesn't even bother to listen out for Eli's vehement protests.

It's only once she'd outside and the noise of the party is only an echo heard through thin walls that she realises she has nowhere to go. Everyone she'd normally go to is either in that party or in another city. Once, she'd have gone to see Kalinda. Right now, she's too pissed off for that. No, she needs somewhere else, somewhere she can think of something else for a while. She knows that there's another option but it's wild and insane and probably worth a shot.

XTGWX

Lockhart Gardner's offices are weird this late at night. It's around eleven and almost everyone has left for the day. She's never been her this late before. Everything is quiet. She's used to a continuous hum – the buzzing of computers and the click clack of high heels; the _thwap _of files landing on desks and the tapping of keys on keyboards. She likes those sounds, the hive of activity. Normally, when she's here, she's filing or highlighting for someone – usually her mother. Diane was kind enough to give her an office job when she asked. At the time, Peter was in prison and the family needed extra funds around the house. Chicago isn't exactly a cheap place to live. When she came back on breaks from college, the job is always there for her to pick up. Diane doesn't exactly have a soft spot for Alicia, so Rachel has always just assumed that the teacher she put down as a reference gave her one heck of a good recommendation. So now, when she's in Chicago, she takes the train to the heart of the city and gets to work.

She's losing her nerve now, wondering if he's even still here. The lights are on so _someone _is. It's entirely possible that he's left, gone on a date with Tammy (was that her name? Rachel can't remember). It's odd, knowing exactly who her father is, that he works just down the hall from her, that he is both her boss and her mother's.

She didn't even know about all this when she started working there. Peter had come along when she was three – before she can remember – and because she remembered him always being there, she'd just assumed that he was her father. It wasn't as if there was any evidence to the contrary. It wasn't until Peter made his little ploy to make her mother seem less saint-like in order to make himself look better after the whole Amber Madison thing that she even discovered he wasn't her father. There wasn't even enough time for her to ask questions. The article had come as a shock to both women. Now that she's looking back on those few moments, the argument with her mother, the screaming tantrum she'd forced Peter to listen to, she wonders how it wasn't figured out earlier. How was it that some intrepid reporter never dug up her birth certificate and discovered no father was listed? Maybe they had. Maybe a roadblock had been put in the way of publication. Maybe the journalist was sympathetic and buried the story. Maybe their editor didn't want to make an enemy of the State's Attorney. Maybe's she's just lucky that she looks almost exactly like her mother.

It had been her grandmother, Grandma Veronica, who had told her who her father was. Alicia had only mentioned that it wasn't Peter. Rachel finds herself thankful for that drunken little slip. She wonders if she ever would have known otherwise. She's never been annoyed at her mother in the weeks that have passed. She knows Alicia was just trying to protect her and it's a horrid secret to have to keep for twenty years.

Is it even worth it? Is it even worth telling Will? Does he even want a daughter? She's twenty now, an adult. Does she even need some new father figure? Maybe she should just leave it. And that's what she does, she leaves it – like so many other things in her life. She doesn't have the heart to leave the building though. She sits at the makeshift desk set up in her mother's office and starts reading through the files, highlighting what she needs to and putting post-it notes in the right spaces. It'd be tedious work were it not for the fact that the reading is as interesting as it is.

XTGWX

There's a hand gently shaking her shoulder, trying to wake her, uttering her name. How did she fall asleep? She blinks a few times, trying to get her bearings as she brushes sleep from her eyes. "Rachel?" the voice say, and she turns around slightly. There he is, the man who is – as it turns out – her biological father: Will Gardner. "Hey, your mom's worried about you, wondering where you are," he says in hushed tones. Rachel takes a minute, bewildered as he starts talking into his cell phone. She runs her hand through her hair, hearing him say "Yeah, she's here." There's a moment where she wonders whether he knows but she ignores it, suddenly beginning to question a bunch of other things like whether she has pen on her face.

What time is it? She looks down at the delicate watch she got as a sixteenth birthday present, 1AM. Great, by the time she gets down to the train station, she'll have missed the last train home. Damn it! She wonders why she never heard her phone ring but then she realises that she couldn't have heard her phone. She left the damn thing – along with everything else – at the apartment. She could use the office phone to call a cab except for the fact that it'd be pointless because she has no cash. She's just starting to remember that she walked here. She could walk back, it's not too far.

"I-I have to go," she stammers, standing up from the chair and quickly closing the file she fell asleep on. She starts marching towards the elevator. Why is she being so quick about it? What is she trying to escape? She has a perfect moment to explain everything and she's wasting it!

"Rachel!" she hears him call after her and she whips her head round, creating a fan of dark brown hair she's so quick, "Why don't I drop you off? It's cold out and I'm pretty sure your mom would kill me if I let you walk home in heels at this time of night."

She wants to refuse. She wants to act independent – like the kind of person who can legally vote and is attending one of the country's most prestigious colleges, but he's right. She glances down at her feet. It's Chicago and past midnight on a Friday night. Any number of bad things could happen. Taking the ride is the sensible option. Before she even knows what she's doing, she nods.

XTGWX

The car ride back to the apartment is awkward, more awkward than she'd like. Silence is only punctuated by Rachel's voice, telling him when to turn about 500 metres before he needs to do so. Soon enough, they're there, outside the apartment she barely knows but still calls home. She's not sure how long her mother and siblings will stay there. Peter wants to find a house in Highland Park, like they used to have. If he ever gets his way, they'll all move back into the place they used to have. How on earth they'll afford it, she doesn't know. He'll probably want her mother to stop working soon too. He wants everything to go back to the way it was before, before Amber Madison, before prison, before Rachel found out the truth.

There's a moment where she can't seem to figure out how to open the door. "You alright?" Will asks and she smiles weakly. She has to think: Is she okay?

She shakes her head. "It's nothing, really," she says, and she automatically thinks of the obvious lie she's just told. "I just –" she pauses. What is she going to say? 'I just think you should know that you're my biological father'? Yeah, that'll go down well. So, she goes with a half-truth instead. "I just really don't feel like dealing with. . ." she trails off, unsure what to call Peter. For years, he's been 'Dad', it would be strange to call him anything but. At the same time, she doesn't actually want to call him 'Dad' because he isn't her father. A father wouldn't have thrown her under the bus the way he did, he certainly wouldn't have tossed her for the wolfish reporters to feed on.

"Peter?" he says, and it's like he's read her mind. She supposes it's obvious, given what's happened.

"Ugh. . . I'll be fine. Thank you for, you know, this." It sounds so awkward and she really wants to tell the truth. She wants to tell him that she came to the office tonight to tell him the truth, but she lost her nerve almost as quickly as it came to her. She wants to tell him how much she's come to hate Peter. She wants to tell him about her grades and that she's attending Georgetown, just like he did, just like her mom did. She wants to tell him that she got a full ride, that she's pre-law. She wants to have the kind of conversations you have with a father, but she can't seem to get up the nerve to tell him that that's what he is. She smiles softly as she clambers out of the front passenger seat of the car and onto the pavement. She waves before she turns to enter the apartment and she notes that he cares about her – or maybe he cares about her mother – enough to make sure that he stays until she's safely in the building.

When she arrives back at the apartment, she notes that the party is over. The place is surprisingly Peter-less and only her mother remains, sitting on the couch – clearly Zach and Grace have headed off to bed. Alicia only stays sitting for a few moments before she stands up and hugs her, patting down, checking for cuts and bruises or some sign of harm. "I'm fine Mom," Rachel says by way of reassurance, hoping that it'll work.

She knows why this is. Once, when she was eight, Peter was meant to be watching her while they were at the mall – Zach and Grace had been running riot through the food court and Rachel, needing to find some semblance of quiet, had wandered off into a nearby bookstore. He didn't notice for an hour. Mall security were called, police were called and when they found her, huddled over the new Harry Potter book, she was severely yelled at by Peter. Alicia, after finding out, had been overprotective of her eldest daughter ever since.

"Rachel Elizabeth Cavanaugh, where the hell have you been?" her mom asks, her face contorts through a few emotions – anger, pain, and joy, there may be more – in a few seconds. She doesn't know when her mother started referring to her as a Cavanaugh. She's been a Florrick for so long that it's odd to the ears, and yet something about it seems right.

She thinks. How does she answer _that_? "I-I – Will dropped me home," she blurts out for no real reason. She's pretty certain that her mother knows where she was, it's the why that matters. She could have said that she couldn't stand being at Peter's victory party, that she'd gone to the office, that work had seemed a heck of a lot more tolerable than photos with the candidate and politely schmoozing with politicos who all thought Peter was the perfect candidate now that the scandal had blown over.

"Oh, did you –"

She doesn't let her mother finish, shaking her head. "I wanted to, but I couldn't. I just –" she stops. "Would you want me to?" Her mother's face is blank. "I just. . . you guys are good friends right now, and he gave you a job. You – you seem happy for the first time in forever and I. . . I don't want to ruin that for you," Rachel explains, and she realises that her mother is blinking back tears. "Mom, please don't cry," she begs. This isn't what she wanted. She really didn't want to make her cry.

"When did you turn into me?" Alicia finally asks, chuckling tearfully.

Rachel laughs lightly, replying with "Grandma says it was right around the day I was born."

"God, don't call her Grandma, she's still trying to convince everyone that she's under forty," her mother responds with a laugh and it's infectious. Soon, the two of them are laughing as though there's no argument to be had. Rachel knows that it'll change in the morning but, for now, she still has things she still has things to get off her chest.

"I want to tell him Mom. We were sat in his car and I wanted to tell him everything. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to tell him the moment I got to Lockhart Gardner tonight and each time I got an opportunity, I just kept losing my nerve and. . ." she trails off, swiping at the tears that have sprung to her eyes. "I should go to bed," she says. She's unsure as to whether it's because she fears that she's divulged too much or whether it's because she's genuinely tired. It's probably a mix of both, she thinks as she wanders off to her room.


	2. There Goes My Miracle

_Four Years Later_

Rachel wakes in her tiny apartment and smiles. It's small and a little damp but it's hers and she can afford it with her new salary which feels like the most important thing. Somehow, it's one of the few places in her budget that's roommate-free, asbestos-free, and leak-free that was in her budget. The neighbourhood is good, one of those places dominated by hipsters desperate to make the place cool again. Her neighbours are nice too. Well, the ones she's met are. She has a flirtation going on with the guy across the hall and the two women next door collect her mail for her on the rare occasions she's out of town.

She never really expected to move back to Chicago. She thought she'd put in a few years in D.C. or New York first but the job market had somehow dried up and the new State's Attorney, James Castro, had called her with an offer – one she didn't really have the luxury of refusing. She figures she's probably being used or that Peter has wrangled the job for her for some reason, but she's given up caring. It's a job in a city she still calls home. Putting criminals away seems better than keeping them on the street anyway. Plus, she knows that if she were working for a firm she'd spend more time building up a client roster than actually litigating.

She looks across the room at the suit she has hung especially on her wardrobe door. It's simple, black, and stylish. The blazer has a matching skirt (which she's thankful for because she genuinely can't remember which judge it was who once nearly held her mother in contempt for wearing pants and she really doesn't want the same issue) and there's a burgundy blouse in there to match. It was a law school graduation present from her mother and it feels appropriate to wear it on her first day in court.

XTGWX

She marches not court like she owns it. It's a trick she's taught herself over the years – the old fake it 'til you make it thing – and it works a treat. It's not until she takes a glance at the defence table that she even discovers who she's going up against: Will Gardner. Well, she thinks, this should be interesting. She never did tell them the truth. She never felt right doing it. Anyway, there was never the time. Almost immediately after the election, Rachel went back to Georgetown and while she'd done a couple of summers working at Lockhart Gardner, she was never close enough to Will again to have the opportunity.

She smiles calmly as she sits down at the prosecution table. She's second chairing the case and she's starting to wonder where her co-counsel, Finn Polmar, is. Will hasn't looked up from his files and she's thankful that he hasn't noticed that she's there. She flicks through her own files, trying to find holes in their argument.

"Hi Rachel," she hears as Finn puts his briefcase down on the floor beside her. They've had a couple of days to prep and find their stride together. It's important to get the chemistry right, get it wrong and you're Marcia Wallace and Christopher Darden. She thinks they've got it. She likes Finn. He's calm, much calmer than she's ever had the capacity to be – it'll play well with the jury, she thinks.

She responds with a smile, it's short and sweet. "Have we said hello to our opponent yet?" he asks. Finn is big on sportsmanship, she's discovered.

"What? Will? I thought it best if I didn't, you should though." She's not sure where she stands with Will. The tension between him and her mother is too fierce right now. She knows that her mother is too fierce right now. She knows her mother went about it all the wrong way. Not that there is a right way to leave a law firm with clients in tow. Plus, she isn't exactly sure what she should say to him. Yet, she still finds herself being pulled towards him. Finn is dragging her and she isn't sure what to do so she just goes with it, smiling politely when Finn shakes hands with Will.

There's a lull in the conversation as Will stares at her and she wonders what it is, why he's staring at her. Does she have pen on her nose? "I see you went for the State's Attorney's office Rachel," he says politely.

Finn looks at her, surprised. "You know each other?" he says, chuckling a little.

Rachel shuffles from one foot to the other "I worked for LG for a couple of summers," she explains.

There's something in Will's face she can't quite understand. Unlike her mother, no one could ever accuse her of being an expert in the many moods of Will Gardner "Better than half of our associates," he says, smiling softly "You know you always had a place at Lockhart Gardner, even after everything with your mom," he adds.

She smiles graciously, she's pretty certain that he's just saying it to be polite. "This felt more like neutral ground," she replies, and he laughs a little. She understands why her mother fell in love with that sound all those years ago – it's like magic, she feels this desperate need to hear it again. Still, the conversation is feeling awkward and stilted, more awkward than when he'd dropped her off home just four short years earlier. "I should. . ." she trails off, unsure how best to make her exit. She quickly gets back into her stride and jokes, "I should leave you to it. Don't think that just because I used to work for you, I'll make this easy," all the while refusing to add the thing she really wants to say.

XTGWX

She's intrigued by Will's opening statement. It's a clear refutation of all the facts she has on paper in front of her. It brings up everything Finn has just explained away. Touch DNA, that Jeffrey supposedly never knew Danni Littlejohn, he's put all of it into the defence. "And possibly most damning of all, the police arrested someone else for this murder."

Rachel stands up before she even knows what she's doing. "Objection!" she calls out. Judge Politi will be sympathetic to her cause, she's certain of it. She'll barely have to explain herself but, still, the three lawyers are called to the bench. She leaves Finn and Will to chat amongst themselves, or argue, as she approaches the judge. "Your Honour, you've already ruled on this. Mr Gardner cannot mention the previous suspect," she explains, proud of herself for one-upping him.

"You said I couldn't mention the man's _name_ Your Honour," Will responds, trying out that innocent look of his and Rachel has to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"No, I said you couldn't mention the man _himself_," Politi replies. Rachel knows she's won but she can't allow the satisfied smirk from appearing on her face all the same.

"Your Honour, it goes to my theory of the case," Will explains, and now Rachel rolls her eyes. It's insolent, she knows, but it's so difficult to hold back.

"Yeah, please let's hear the theory of the case," Finn jokes sarcastically.

"The police were so embarrassed by arresting the wrong man a year earlier, they railroaded my client." The theory isn't entirely implausible, but Rachel knows better than to fall into that trap.

"Yeah, because Chicago cops will just arrest any young, white, wealthy college student for murder these days, won't they?" she responds dryly.

"Mr Gardner, this isn't about the cops' motive, this is about _you _putting doubt in the minds of the jury, and I want you to cut it out," the judge responds and Rachel smiles. Winning feels good.

XTGWX

"We can claim with a 99.9% certainty that this DNA belongs to Mr Grant," their DNA expert says. Rachel risks a quick glance at the jury. They're taking it in, she thinks. It's risky to put forward a scientific argument, they normally go for story, not facts. They had to pre-empt Will's questions though, and this was the best way to do it.

"And there was no evidence of any other DNA anywhere near the body?" she asks.

She's about to get an answer out of the good doctor when she hears the words "Objection, leading the witness," as they come out of Will's mouth.

Newbie hazing, she knows the drill – object every few seconds in the hopes of distracting the lawyer. She's prepped for this one. She can handle it. "Apologies. I'll rephrase. Dr Vale, did you find a shred of evidence that there was DNA other than Mr Grant's anywhere near the body?"

"No, only Mr Grant's," her witness responds.

"And the quantity of DNA under Danni Littlejohn's fingernails, that's consistent with the theory that there was a struggle between – "

"Objection," Will calls out.

In that moment, an idea pops into her head. Playing the ingenue has worked well for a few lawyers, Nancy Crozier for one. She could give it a go, what's the worst that can happen? "Apologies Your Honour, I'm fresh out of law school and – well – I'm not used to having to hold my own against powerful lawyers like Mr Gardner," she explains before turning back to the witness "Now, Dr Vale, where were we? Oh, that's right, I was asking you about the DNA under poor Danni's fingernails, wasn't I?"

Dr Vale nods "Yes, that's correct."

"And that DNA, is that consistent with the current theory that she and Mr Grant struggled?" she asks.

"Yes, it is."

"And, just for the jury's piece of mind, is there any doubt about this DNA? There's no chance you could be mistaken?"

"Ms Cavanagh, with all DNA we leave ourselves a degree of doubt but the doubt here is 0.00001,"

"Correct me if I'm wrong but isn't that a one in a million chance?" she asks.

"Something like that, yes,"

"And there's only just over two and a half million people living in Chicago, aren't there?" she adds, to erase any additional doubts.

"That is correct," he answers.

"So, doesn't that mean that Mr Grant is the most likely killer?" she asks.

"That is correct, yes," Satisfied with the answer she's just received, she thanks the witness and leaves the floor open for Will as she returns to her desk.

"What is touch DNA?" Will asks, and Rachel realises that for all of her assumptions, she should have asked about that too, just to get it out of the way.

"DNA that is transferred via skin cells when an object is handled or touched."

"And how many skin cells does a person shed every day?" Will asks. Rachel bites her lip, hoping that she and Finn have done enough prep work on this one.

"Approximately 400,000 skin cells," Dr Vale responds. Will is trying to use science to confuse the jury, Rachel realises.

"Wow, that's a lot," Will says with mock surprise. "So, if I handled this book on my desk, Introduction to Litigation, it was a gift from Mr Polmar-"

"Well, you told me you'd finally read it," Finn quips and everyone in the courtroom – barring Jeffrey Grant's parents – let out a chuckle. It's a good line, Rachel thinks.

"Now, if I handle this book and I had it to you, would I be transferring cells?" Will asks, standing up and approaching the witness box.

"You could be. You would have to hold it for some time and… it would be a better absorbent if the cover were cloth," Dr Vale responds.

Rachel looks at Finn and he gives her a reassuring nod. They've got this. They may not have an investigator – they definitely don't have Kalinda Sharma – but they do have their wits about them. They have this case in the bag.

"Your Honour, I've had some late arriving evidence and unfortunately I haven't had time to put it on slides." Will says to the judge and now, Rachel understands why she spied Kalinda sit down in the courtroom. She wants to object but he's already pre-empted it. By explaining that it was late-arriving evidence, Will has screwed with any objection she may have had.

"The last day of Danni Littlejohn's life, she checked out a research book from her Advanced Sociology class, this is her at 3.25pm as seen from the library surveillance cameras." Will says, picking up a photograph – well, a screengrab from surveillance footage – and showing it to Dr Vale. "Do you see her there?"

"Yes."

He walks around to the jury, showing them the photo. "Now, this was a book all of the sociology classes needed to share so a student couldn't take it out of the library. They had to return it after reading the chapter." He explains.

Rachel stands quickly, facing Judge Politi. "Objection Your Honour. Mr Gardner is testifying." She explains.

"He does seem to be. Is there a question swirling around in all those statements?"

"Yes, Your Honour." Will answers. "A few hours earlier at 12.39, the book was checked out by this person. Do you recognise him?"

"It looks like Jeffrey Grant." Well, that's a problem. Rachel gulps, wishing she had picked up a cup of coffee during recess (or maybe three). It's not that she's tired, it's just that she really wants something to drink and now is not an appropriate time for wine.

"Is it possible that the DNA at question here was transferred via the cloth cover of this book?" Will asks.

"It could but to get under the victim's fingernails, she would have to grip the book quite tightly."

"Yes, but as you say, it's possible. It's certainly possible." Will walks round to her and Finn "Can you see that Mr Polmar, Ms Cavanaugh?"

"Yes, Mr Gardner, thank you." Rachel responds politely while Finn gives a similar affirmative.

XTGWX

Outside the courtroom, Rachel spies her mother talking with Will. Their voices are hushed but the tension between the two, the strain she'd expected to see after months of details of the fight between the two, it all seems to have dissipated. She can see that warm look in Will's eyes, the one he seems to reserve only for her mother. Her mother looks… she can't quite tell. Is this what her mother looks like when she's happy? She can't remember the last time she saw her mother happy.

"Your kid's doing a good job at kicking my ass in there, she doesn't miss a beat," Will says, a little louder than Rachel had expected. Her lungs fill with pride and she has to force herself to look at the ground lest anyone say the beaming smile on her face.

"Yeah, she'll keep you on your toes," Alicia responds and there's something electric in the air, something in the moment that makes Rachel go teary-eyed. Maybe everything will be fine on that front after all.

XTGWX

Finn is smiling as he re-enters the courtroom after lunch. Rachel has to force herself to smile back. Despite the conversation she's just heard, she still feels like she's about to redirect with nothing, something she really doesn't want to do. She doesn't want to fail. She glances behind her, Danni Littlejohn's have been avoiding the trial but they've chosen today of all days to turn up. Her heart breaks for them.

She's spent most of the last hour running through the files at her disposal, only breaking for sips of coffee and a bite of a sandwich. Will stops Finn in the aisle and she sees a small conversation take place. She can't make out what's being said but Finn seems to escape it still pleased. When he sits down next to her, he hands her a file and, upon flicking through the few pages in it, she finds herself able to smile genuinely.

XTGWX

"Thanks for returning Doctor," she says as she walks towards him, more confident now that she has something to work with. "I promise, I only have a few more questions. Now, if somebody in this room wanted to avoid leaving touch DNA, how would you suggest they do it?"

"How would they avoid it?" Dr Vale seems surprised but Rachel just nods, making a slight noise of affirmation. "Well, the best way would be to remove the top layer of dead cells on your skin."

"And you could do that through washing hands, correct?"

"Yes, or some kind of solvent, or alcohol-based cleanser."

"What about chlorine? Would that do the trick?" she asks, finding her stride. She takes a look over her shoulder and sees a look of shock register on Kalinda's face.

"Yes, a chlorine-based wash would be quite effective," Dr Vale replies and Rachel wants to whoop for joy. Science just became the subject she should have paid more attention to in school.

"And could that also wash away the result of any touch DNA?"

"Yes, it would."

She returns to the desk and takes the newfound evidence from Finn. "Your Honour, I am so sorry about this, but we only received this evidence over the break and we spent so much time verifying it that we weren't able to get it onto slides. I hope that isn't a problem." There's a slight smile on her face as she gets to give Will a taste of his own medicine.

"It's like Perry Mason here with all of this late arriving stuff." Judge Politi says as she walks up to the bench, showing him the image she plans to introduce into evidence. "Go ahead."

She shows the image to Dr Vale. "Could you please tell me who you see in this image here?" she asks, trying to avoid the satisfied smile she knows wants to creep onto her lips.

"It looks like the victim, Danni Littlejohn."

"That's good because it is Danni Littlejohn at the college swimming pool. Any chance you could just read out the time stamp of the campus surveillance camera?" she asks, trying to maintain a polite demeanour – one lesson she's learnt from watching her mother (and watching Nancy Crozier) in court is that staying polite and somewhat innocent endears you to the jury, something that goes a long way in a jury trial.

"It says 5.12."

"Pm. Thank you. Now, that's after the surveillance footage Mr Gardner showed us of Danni using the cloth-covered book, isn't it?"

"Yes, an hour and a half later."

"Just, give me a couple of seconds to show the jury." Rachel says as she wanders over to the jury, ensuring that they can see the image and aren't distracted by it. "So, allow me to get this straight. If Danni Littlejohn were to have gone swimming in a chlorinated pool after handling the sociology book, would that then eliminate any elements of touch DNA on her skin?"

"It would, definitely."

"So, then, is it safe to say that the DNA found under Danni Littlejohn's fingers would most likely have come from a defensive wound that night?"

"Objection. Beyond the scope." Will argues and she wants to argue against it but there's no point as the judge allows the objection. Still, she has a win – a pretty good one at that.

XTGWX

There's a moment, brief and fleeting, where the world feels like it's working in slow motion. She doesn't know how she spots it, but she does, it's just in her periphery. They've only just come back from recess. The three lawyers are now stood at the bench. Will wants to finish up for the day and come back tomorrow. He has some kind of evidence, but he needs the night.

She lets Finn and the Judge argue it out with him as she turns to look at Jeffrey Grant. She gives him what she hopes is a kind smile, she's not sure why, it just seems like the thing to do. Will and Finn are now chuckling with the judge, but Jeffrey is sat at the desk in tears, his face battered and bruised. She feels sympathetic towards him. She knows she shouldn't, but he cuts such a sad figure on his own. He's only a kid, not much younger than she is and not much older than Zach. She realises that she's starting to identify with him on some level – she knows he's guilty and she's wondering what drove him, barely an adult, to kill.

The first shot rings out, and she still has to try to figure out where it came from, even as a bullet narrowly misses her, lodging itself in the judges bench mere centimetres from her head. The gun is still shaking in Jeffrey's hand and one of the bailiffs is quietly trying to usher Judge Politi away, out of the courtroom. For some reason, Rachel stands up and starts calmly – or as calmly as she can manage – walking over to Jeffrey. Adrenaline must be coursing through her veins. She doesn't even notice Will's attempt to hold her back as she moves past his outstretched arm. "Jeffrey, put the gun down, you'll only make things worse if you don't," she says, her palm open in front of her so she can take the gun if he hands it over. He blinks at her a few times, as though he's trying to understand her. Or maybe he's just sizing her up "I get it, you're scared and you're young, so am I, but. . ." she trails off, unsure what she should say next.

Suddenly, she hears screams and there are people running in all directions as a second and third shot go off. She doesn't even realise she's been hit until someone catches her. Now, the shots are going off randomly and she's being dragged somewhere. She doesn't even know how to describe the pain she's feeling in her stomach. At first it was like something bit her but now it's searing and radiating and blinding.

Will is looking in her eyes, almost as though he's trying to make sure she's okay – a pretty futile effort given that she's clearly been shot, "Your mom is going to kill me," he says somewhat jokingly, and she chuckles for a second, stopping only because it makes the pain worse.

"We need some help in here!" Finn yells, and somebody says something from outside the room, but she can't tell who or what it is.

There are hands on her stomach, pressing hard. "We've got blood loss," someone yells but she can't tell who it is because everything seems to be blurring into everything else and she swears she sees Kalinda but maybe she's imagining it. Everything is out of joint and she feels like she's fading.


	3. Darkness on the Edge of Town

"_Get down!" _Will hears Rachel yell, and for a moment he wonders what the hell could be going on as she attempts, somewhat desperately, to push him to the ground. BANG! He hears the gunshot and a bullet sails past his head and right into the judge's bench. He doesn't even think when he sees Rachel start to walk toward Jeffrey Grant. He just stands and tries to pull her back and away from his client, the young man who is, for some reason, holding a gun. But, somehow, the young woman who is maybe an inch or two shorter than him pushes past him and marches towards the man with a gun.

There's a moment where it's like he's watching a zookeeper negotiate with a wild animal as Rachel extends her hand, opening her palm, trying to coax the gun out of Jeffrey's hands. He can hear the screams from outside and the rush of people's feet as they try and escape the courthouse. He winces when he hears the second and third shots go off. He doesn't even know how Finn Polmar got to her, but he's caught Rachel and is now dragging her over to the prosecution desk as a fourth shot goes off.

Will feels cowardly, just standing there, but still he runs over to them, nearly tripping over his own feet and a stray stiletto heel in quick succession. He just stares into her eyes for a moment, "Your mom is going to kill me," he says, and he hears a slight chuckle come out of her mouth followed by a sharp intake of breath. She looks so tired, her auburn hair splayed across Finn's lap. It's a complete 180 compared to the lively young woman who'd been versing off against him in court mere minutes before. Will starts to try and find where the bullet hole, or – God forbid – bullet holes, might be. He presses around until his hands are covered in a scarlet, sticky mixture he can only assume is blood. He pushes down hard, hoping and praying that it's enough until the paramedics can get to them.

"We need some help in here!" Finn yells, putting his hand up in the air. The bullets have stopped now, the sounds of gunfire have been exchanged for those of clicking metal. Jeffrey is out of bullets. "We've got blood loss," Finn says, to no one in particular, and there's some sort of response from one of the cops outside but Will can't seem to focus on it.

There's so much blood and Will can't be certain how much longer Rachel will be able to hold on. He tries to look in her eyes again, her expression is almost blank, her eyes are starting to roll into the back of her head, her eyes fluttering shut, and he swears he hears the word 'Daddy' escape her lips. He could be hallucinating though.

"That's my boss in there," he hears Kalinda shout as she dashes inside. The investigator dashes towards them, zig-zagging across the aisle between courtroom benches, and when she sees Rachel, she clamps a hand to her mouth.

"She needs help," Finn utters. It seems blatantly obvious to everyone in the room.

The rest is all a blur. Will can't even figure out what's going from there. There's only one moment that he might be able to label as a lucid one: He's holding his hands over Rachel's gunshot, and the paramedics are trying to check him over. He won't let them though, not until he knows she's okay. Alicia might just kill him if he doesn't.

It starts to dawn on him that he could have been the one who was shot, he could have been the one who was shot, he could have been the one who desperately needed medical attention, the one who's clinging to life. Kalinda is talking to one of the paramedics, telling them to let him go with Rachel in the ambulance. He thinks he hears her say the word 'father', but maybe he's imagining it in all the panic he's experiencing.

XTGWX

He's sat in the pallid waiting room. They won't let him into the trauma room where they're working on Rachel. Why would they? He's not a relative. Well, nobody's ever confirmed that he is one. He's had hunches, hunches that have been exacerbated by today's events, but he's always waited for either Alicia or Rachel to confirm them. He wonders if Kalinda actually knows, given what she told the paramedic, or whether she was just bluffing.

He keeps trying to call Alicia's cell number but there's no answer. Her assistant won't give him any information either, even when he mentions that it's an emergency and that it's related to Rachel. When he calls Cary, he knows it's miraculous that he even picked up after everything that's gone down – he's able to relay at least some of what's happened and is quickly told that Alicia is supposed to be introducing Peter at the Correspondent's Dinner.

He supposes it's good that she hasn't picked up yet, because he doesn't even know how to tell her. Diane, who followed them to the hospital, keeps offering to make the phone call for him, but he wants to – no, he needs to – do it himself. He ends up sending his friend off for coffee.

Suddenly, it dawns on him that if Alicia is doing something for Peter, it might be best to try and call Eli. Will quickly runs through his contact list in his phone, the blood on his hands has largely dried but some of it still leaves a trace and there's a brief second where he wonders why he hasn't washed it off yet. He slows when he finds the letter 'E' and presses the call button the very moment he sees Eli's contact. "Will, she doesn't have time to be –" Eli begins as a form of greeting but Will ignores it, knowing that he won't have much time, he tries to get straight to the point.

"It's about Rachel. . ." he trails off, wracking his brain for the right words, but there are no right words. It's best just to come out with it. "Rachel was shot at the courthouse," he explains, and he can hear Eli's sudden gasp. He knows that the politico is fond of the girl in the way one is fond of their friend's daughter. There was a time, one summer, where Lockhart Gardner had used Rachel as the designated back up Eli Whisperer when Alicia wasn't available. Despite that, Will still can't bring himself to give out anymore details, not until he hears Alicia's voice.

XTGWX

It's like there's a before and an after. In the before, Alicia is sat at the Correspondent's Dinner, laughing along half-heartedly to the bad jokes being told at her husband's expense, pondering the thought of the federal investigation they are being faced with. In the before, she's about to make a speech highlighting her relationship with Peter – good times only. In the before, her kids, her whole heart are safe. In the after, she's driving to the hospital, with tear-stained cheeks, breaking the speed limit at almost every turn. In the after, she's left Eli to awkwardly make the speech.

She could have gone her whole life without hearing those three words come out of anyone's mouth, let alone Will's: Rachel's bee shot. It rings in her ears, yet she has to keep reminding herself of it. Will's voice sounds so distraught as it plays on a loop.

When she gets to the hospital, Alicia doesn't bother heading to reception, instead making a beeline for the waiting room, thankful that Will had told her which one to head for. It takes mere seconds for her to find him and the moment he spots her, she's enveloped in a hug in his arms. She feels like she's clinging to him for dear life and she suspects that he's clinging to her in much the same way. Tears stream down her face again, leaving inky black trails of mascara on her cheeks, but it's like no time has passed between the two of them, like all of the animosity that had almost bordered on hatred has dissipated. Eventually, they break away from each other and, her face mere inches from his, she has to ask the question that looms thick in the air: "What happened?"

He takes her as through it as best he can. He tells her that Jeffrey had gotten a hold of one of the bailiff's guns, that Rachel had screamed for everyone to get down, even going so far as to push Will to the ground, with a surprising amount of strength, she's informed. "I-I tried to hold her back but she. . . she just approached him," he says, and she can tell that there's a part of him that's been split in two by all of this. As he tells her about their daughter's bravery, she can't help wonder whether it makes all of this better somehow. She looks him in the eye and he seems so pained by it. Rachel told her that he never knew that she was his kid, but now Alicia thinks that he's known all along – on a subconscious level at least. She knows Will as well as a person could know someone, sometimes she thinks she knows him better than she knows herself, and she knows that right now he is traumatised. She sees past the brave face he's putting on, the one he uses to hide the genuine hurt and concern he feels. She's barely had a chance to examine him but in the quick once over she's able to give him she notes that he's covered in blood, blood she can only assume is Rachel's. It's everywhere too. It's all over his dark grey suit. It's coated his hands. She can see traces on his forehead, near his hairline – he's been running his hands through his hair. He's done it a few times too, she guesses based on the amount of blood. It's a little hard to stomach and a lump begins to form in her throat. "Kalinda made sure I was able to go in the ambulance with her. I think she thought I was the better option for some reason," he adds. Alicia feels a pang of guilt at that. A part of he wishes she was there, to hold her daughter's hand if nothing else. Still, she's glad Rachel at least had someone there, someone who should be considered family.

She doesn't know how to tell him. _Should _she tell him? She should, right? It seems like she should. Rachel could need a blood transfusion or an organ donation, there are a million reasons why Will might need to know, why their daughter might need him to know. Then, she sees it. The thing that tips the scales, that makes the decision for her. The admission paperwork he's clinging onto as tightly as he held her just before. She can make out Rachel's name and her birth date – Will Gardner has never had terribly clear handwriting – the rest is sparse and unfilled. "She's AB Positive," Alicia says, indicating to the pieces of paper attached to the clipboard. He nods, taking a pen out of his trouser pocket and noting it down with a trembling hand. "Will, there's. . . there's something you should know," she starts, desperately trying to steady her nerves. "Maybe you should sit down actually," she adds, realising that he's been through a hell of a lot today already, and this might just be the thing that tips him over the edge. He looks at her, bewildered. Nevertheless, he stays standing in front of her. It's almost like he's telling her that whatever she says, it can't be worse thing he's dealt with today. Hell, it might not be the worst blow she's dealt him in the last six months ago. "Rachel is. . . you're her father."

XTGWX

"Rachel is. . . you're her father." He stares at her a moment, nodding, taking it all in. Eventually, he stumbles back and sits down on the chair behind him. He had a hunch. He's not sure he has a right to be angry with her. He thinks back on it. For all of their friendship and all of the niceties when he hired her, they hadn't left things on good terms 25 years ago. It's not like he was what you'd consider fatherhood material back then. He still wasn't fatherhood material when Alicia was hired at the firm, around the time he was first introduced to Rachel. He's not even sure he's cut out to be a father now.

Then, he says something that takes a moment to register – even with him. It's like it's coming out of his mouth without the forethought required to speak. "I kind of figured." He doesn't give Alicia the opportunity to ask a follow up question because he's already answering it. "You remember that Rachel came by the office the night Peter won the State's Attorney race? I found her sleeping at that little makeshift desk she had set up next to yours and I ended driving her home. I just had this feeling that night and then in the car, outside your apartment, she looked like she wanted to tell me something. I think she was about to, but she didn't. She just. . . I don't know, I kind of added up the dates in my head, or I tried to at least, but I didn't want to. . . I don't know. . ." He doesn't know why he can't finish the sentence. Then, it all hits him again. He has a daughter, a daughter who is 25 years old, and smart, and funny, and if the fact that she just basically saved his life proves anything, she's brave as hell, and she might just die.

He counts up all he's missed. Birthdays, Christmases, graduations – three of them – boyfriends he should have scared, advice he should have given, jokes they should have shared. He's missed all of it. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, it's like he's been holding the question in like a breath ever since Rachel said that one word back at the courthouse as she was slipping out of consciousness. Still, he doesn't look at Alicia with the same contempt he had for her six months ago. He's oddly calm given the circumstances.

Alicia blinks a few times, as if she's waiting for some burst of rage, but there's no anger left. Maybe he ran out of it after she took off with his clients. Maybe he's just not angry over this. Maybe he's just tired. "I was going to. I wanted to tell you so many times. There was just so much getting in the way though. When I found out I was pregnant, we'd just broken up and you came back here, and I couldn't find you. When she was born, you were here, and I was still in DC. Then, you hired me, and everything got complicated and I was so stressed about the Peter thing and I wasn't even sure I could bring myself to tell you. When Peter. . . when Rachel found out, I told her that it was up to her. She was a grown woman, if she wanted to tell you, she could. I wasn't going to stop her," she pauses, pondering what to say next, "Maybe I should have told you because, my God, she was so cut up over deciding. She said she didn't want to jeopardise what you and I had," she smiles sadly, and he's not sure what to do "She does that, she puts everybody else before herself."

"I've noticed." They don't get any further in the conversation because the surgeon is in the waiting room calling for the family of Rachel Cavanaugh. In that moment, Will doesn't know whether or not he counts. Where does he fit in? Alicia grabs a hold of his hand and pulls him toward the surgeon. Then, he starts to hear all sorts of scary words, words like 'blood loss' and 'ricocheted' and 'internal damage'. He doesn't even know what to ask. He's never been in this kind of situation before, and it's not like this is the kind of thing he can just bluff. His instincts feel like they're all out of whack. He looks at Alicia and she looks as petrified as he feels. Neither one of them knows what to do.

The surgeon leaves very quickly, telling them that Rachel is still in surgery, but he'll be out with an update soon. It's not long before Peter turns up, flanked by Eli. There's a look of sympathy that Eli directs at Will and he can't help but be thankful for it. Eli is also smart enough to know that the obvious question is also the most pointless one. Instead, the silver-haired politico says something that surprises Will "She'll be alright. She's strong." It's an almost perfect thing to say and, unlike with half of the things Will has ever heard Eli says, it seems sincere.

Peter does as Peter always does. He ignores Will and makes the lawyer feel like an outsider. It's Will's kid on the operating table and, yet, Peter feels compelled to act like the one with all the rights. Maybe he has them but, still, biology has to count for something, right?

Will feels a pang of jealousy. He should be used to it by now. He gets the same sensation every time he sees Alicia and Peter together, acting like husband and wife. It's difficult to watch. There's a part of him that feels like he's intruding, another part of him that feels like he's being pushed out, and, at the same time, he gets the sensation that he's missed out on something with Alicia. Will's only response is to sit down in the chair he hasn't long vacated and rest his head in his hands.

XTGWX

_Will remembers when he and Alicia broke up – the first time they broke up, when they were still at Georgetown, days away from graduation. He was so convinced that the whole thing was the most noble thing he could do for her. He'd just end up holding her back and she had so much potential. Anyone could see it. At one point, they'd decided that they'd attempt the long-distance thing – she wanted to be in DC, he had a job lined up in Chicago – now, having heard the horror stories, he was convinced that it wasn't best. "You can't do this Will!" she'd screamed at him._

_He was cutting his losses, guarding his heart and – in the long run – hers, he thought. "Leesh, I'm just going to hold you back," he'd told her, resigned to the line of argument he'd decided on in his head only a few days previously._

"_So, hold me back Will! See if I care!" she'd yelled at him, bashing her fists against her chest. He'll take the pain, all of it. It's better this way, he reminded himself._

"_You don't mean that Leesh. You'll resent me in the end, I know you will," he'd said and she pushed him away, proceeding to throw the things he'd left in her apartment over the course of a year at him._

XTGWX

He hadn't realised how hard it would be then. He hadn't realised then that she was carrying his child. He hadn't known that, one day, in the distant future, he'd end up hiring Alicia and working alongside. He hadn't known how much his heart would ache for her. He hadn't given it a thought that she might find someone else and allow that person to hold her back. If he'd known what he knew now, maybe he wouldn't have done what he did then.


	4. Hello Sunshine

"I'm not leaving my daughter in a hospital to go to some event with you!" Alicia finds herself screaming at Peter. Sometimes, she wonders why they even married – it's a thought that pops into her head when he gets like this, something that seems to happen more and more frequently these days.

Right now, he's staring at her, seething with a quiet rage she knows is about to explode, and all because she won't got to some event she barely remembers promising to attend. She's a little too focused on the reality she's been facing for the past 12 hours. The fact that she's waiting for her daughter to wake up from major surgery seems to have been lost on her husband. For a while there, she was stressed, now, she's just plain angry. More so, she hopes, than he is.

If it were Zach or Grace in that bed. . . but it isn't, and that's the problem. It's Rachel. Rachel is the one fighting for her life and not Zach or Grace and, in Peter's mind, that means there's a difference – a big one at that. He's always been harder on Rachel. She's always had to be better, faster, stronger, and smarter than the other two. Where Grace has only had to get an A on a paper, Rachel had to get a full ride to Georgetown and all the other ivy league schools too – without the tutor. Where Zach only had to _offer _to volunteer on one of Peter's campaigns, Rachel had to be instrumental in delivering an entire district. Alicia knows she's watched on from the sidelines, and let it happen. She's never thought to have the argument over it because, until now, she never thought she could. When she and Peter were first married, she was so convinced that Rachel couldn't be considered a burden or a roadblock to their relationship, that she just let him do it. She was desperate for her child to have a father, so she didn't argue. Now, it's hitting her like a tonne of bricks just how stupid she's been.

"You made a promise Alicia. To me. Your husband. You made a promise to me," Peter sneers, as if it might make any difference, and she just wants to scream. How can he be so obstinate? How is it that she ever married someone so self-centred? Has he always been this way? Of course, he has. The problem is that it's only hitting her now. No, that's not quite true. She noticed it when the Amber Madison saga went down, she just shoved it down and chose to ignore it.

"I cannot believe you right now! My daughter, my _daughter _– a girl you helped raise – is lying in a hospital bed after being _shot _and you want me to go off with you to some event? You are unbelievable Peter. Un-freaking-believable."

"She has Will, her _real _father, she'll be fine," he says, almost bitterly and she's tempted to slap him.

Eli begins to whisper in Peter's ear and Alicia is reminded, yet again, why they keep him around. The politico has been an excellent support. He's refused to leave the waiting room other than to fetch coffee and demand answers from doctors. Alicia knows that he's always had a soft spot for Rachel. Maybe it's because she wasn't a child when he first met her. Maybe it's because she actually did as she was told for as long as possible, playing the dutiful daughter to a tee. Alicia has never been sure why. Still, when she hears him utter the words 'optics' and 'bad', she can't help but huff in annoyance. She knows that Eli is only saying these things to get Peter to see things his way which is, in reality, her way. Even so, referring to her daughter as a political opportunity feels terrible.

"I don't care how bad the optics are, my wife made a promise," Peter utters, his voice barely a whisper. Alicia is tempted to smack her husband now. She wouldn't even care about the arrest that would probably happen because of it. She could plea her way out of it no problem – both Diane and Cary are somewhere around and if she were to give a temporary insanity defence, she'd be home free.

There's a moment where she considers doing it, really considers it. She thinks better of it though, deciding, instead, that yelling might be the better option. "If you really feel that strongly then you can LEAVE!" she yells, perhaps louder than she should have. It barely registers when Will slips past them and away from the hospital room.

XTGWX

When Rachel wakes, it's slow and difficult, almost as though her body is still trying to drag her back into sleep. There's a moment, somewhere between sleep and consciousness where she hears her mother yelling at someone. Then, she hears someone yelling back, she's pretty certain it's Peter.

Slowly, almost painfully, she blinks her eyelids open, and she's faced with a hospital room. It's plain and sterile (she assumes), and she can't make sense of the colour because the room is so badly lit. What time is it? She's not entirely sure. She's not sure she minds.

She shuffles up in the bed, immediately regretting it as she feels a shot of searing pain coming from her abdomen. She tries to be quiet about it – she's not sure why she should be – but she can't help but allow a small, quiet whimper to escape her lips.

Only then does she notice a body in a chair as it jolts awake and alert. It takes a moment for her to figure out who it is. She isn't exactly used to seeing her father unkempt. "Rachel, you're awake!" Will exclaims, seeming somewhat surprised, and she's able to get a good look at him. She's certain that she spies dark circles beneath his eyes and there's a somewhat haunted look there too.

Her first instinct is to joke, asking how long she's been unconscious feels redundant and humour has always been her way of dealing with the weird and macabre. "You look like hell," she tells him, the pair chuckling for a moment, her laughter only stopping when she realises how much pain it's causing her.

He stares at her, panic-stricken, for a moment. "I-I'll go grab a nurse," he says, standing up. She wants to tell him that the action is pointless, that there's probably a call button somewhere around, most likely beside the bed, but – before she can even say anything – he's off out the door and she's alone.

"LEAVE!" she hears her mother yell, and she shudders involuntarily. It's a painful reaction but she doesn't often hear that kind of anger in her mother's voice. The last time she heard that kind of anger, Peter had announced to the world – or the Cook County voting public at least – that Rachel wasn't his child. She thinks that it's likely that the target is the same. The exclamation is followed by a low murmur, one Rachel is convinced has come from Eli, and the slamming of a door. Rachel isn't sure how she would react to the total look of ire on her mother's face. So, she just waits for her mother to break the silence. It's easier that way, she thinks. "You're. . . you're awake," the older woman finally says, looking around the world. "Where's Will?"

"He uh he went to go grab a nurse," Rachel says, nervous for some reason. Maybe she isn't nervous, maybe it's just that she's in pain and hasn't long woken up.

"But there's a call button in here, isn't there?" Alicia says, and there's a look of panic on her face. Alicia's good at hiding it though and recovers, quickly transforming her face into a bemused expression. She isn't quick enough and Rachel spots it all the same.

"Probably but. . . did you tell him?" Rachel asks as it dawns on her why her mother seemed so concerned that Will might have fled. Her mother nods and Rachel smiles slightly. It's like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders – off both of their shoulders. She doesn't have to walk round, wondering when she'll next bump into him and whether she'll accidentally just blurt it out. His knowing the truth is good, she reminds herself. "Was he. . . was he angry?" Alicia shakes her head. Rachel trusts that response, if anyone could ever read the many moods of Will Gardner, it's her mother.

"He says you saved his life," Alicia says after a few moments' silence.

Rachel doesn't want that. Heroics weren't exactly her aim. She's not even sure what her aim was. Everything's a bit fuzzy. She thinks she might have been working on instinct alone in that courtroom. She's not even sure whether she could have saved Will if the timings weren't in her favour. "I-I. . ." she stammers before suddenly, and quite inelegantly bursting into tears. She doesn't even know why either. "D-did everyone else get out okay?" she asks.

"I don't know honey."

XTGWX

When Will returns to Rachel's hospital room, doctor in tow, he's surprised to see Alicia in the bed with their daughter, playing with her hair. He's seen the two interact before, but it's always been in a professional environment. There's never been much on display for him to analyse. This, however, is different. He feels like he's intruding somehow.

The doctor – Will has already forgotten his name – breaks the silence. There's a slight cough and the two women look up. Rachel has tears in her eyes. Will can understand that – she's been through a hell of a lot. Somehow, she manages to wipe away the tears and speak clearly. "What's the prognosis?" she asks, and Will is taken aback by her apparent ability to come bac in a flash. He wonders where she could have gotten such an ability. Is it something she picked up from so many years of dealing with Peter and his political drama? Or is there another reason?

The doctor fills her in on everything – the fact that she was lucky that the bullet merely grazed some of her vital organs. Will wasn't exactly able to pay attention the first few times he heard the whole lot explained. So, now, he listens intently. He watches her, watches Rachel, waiting for some kind of mannerism that might remind him, once again, that she is his kid. It's a habit he's picked up in the past few hours. It's not that he doesn't trust Alicia, or Rachel, or his gut. He just can't quite believe that he has a daughter – one who's already a quarter of a century old. He watches as she nods her understanding.

Once the doctor leaves, he feels awkward. There's so much hanging in the air, it just seems off. "I should – I should go," he says, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"No! Stay! Please," Rachel begs, and he can't refuse. There's something about those brown eyes. "Mom has to go check on Grace and I – " He gets it, she's not sure she should be left alone – even in a hospital with doctors and nurses surrounding them. If he's being honest with himself, he's not entirely sure that he should be either.

XTGWX

It all feels rather uncomfortable now. Her mother has left with the express purpose of ensuring that Grace hasn't burnt the apartment down, and probably reassure her too, and now it's just Rachel and Will. Neither one of them seems to know what to say. Finally, she decides to break the silence "I-I wanted to tell you about. . . you know but I- " she stops. She's so desperate to fill the silence that she's allowing her mouth to run ahead of her brain.

"Your mom told me," he responds. His voice is monotone and flat. Rachel doesn't know what that means. She isn't an expert the way her mother is.

"Are-are you angry?" she asks, silently pleading for the answer to be a resounding 'no'. She's not sure she could live with herself if he is.

He pauses, pondering. "With you? No," he says and she's not sure whether she should question it.

"Because if you are that's totally fine, you can tell me the truth, I'd understand if-" she stops, hearing a knock on the door.

It's followed by a man – one Rachel knows to be a detective – enters the room. He's rugged-looking, bordering on handsome, with dark hair, cut haphazardly into spikes, and bright blue eyes. They've met before, on a few occasions, she remembers – a hazard of the job. "Miss Florrick-" he says, she doesn't even see Will wince but, even so, she stops the detective.

"It's Cavanagh actually," she corrects, "and, yes, I do know why you're here. So, go ahead and ask your questions."

"Rachel, he can come back-" Will begins, but Rachel raises her hand as if to quiet him. He stares at her a second, and there's something intense and almost protective in there.

It gives her a minute to try and think things through. What should she do? What should she do? It repeats in her head like a mantra. Then, she realises why the cop is there in the first place. She knows what will happen next. She looks at Will with something akin to fear in her eyes, and through some kind of guesswork, he starts to persuade the detective to leave.

Once he's somewhat politely forced the detective to leave, Will turns to Rachel and asks "What's going on?"

She breathes deep, as painful as it feels, "Look, I'm exhausted, and the morphine is starting to kick in so I might be a bit loopy, but I think I need a lawyer," she says.


	5. If I Should Fall Behind

**EEK! Super late update, I know and I'm sorry (although I can't guarantee it won't happen again). Loads of reasons why this one's late - the most major being that I ran out of pre-written chapters and had to actually write what I had planned next, which unfortunately took months. Thank you for all of your kind reviews! They're so greatly appreciated.**

There's no escaping it. There's been no escaping it for the last few hours. It was the main discussion at school after someone checked their phone during class and showed her the news alert. Even at its highest volume, the music she blasts into her ears as tears stray down her cheeks can't drown out the discussion. Once again, everybody stares at her with pity in their eyes. Once again, she's left to turn on the TV and find out what's going on in her own life. Once again, her sister is the subject of a media circus, and once again, Grace Florrick is forced to watch as everything falls apart.

They're saying she's dead. They're reporting her sister dead. It's not true. Surely, it's not true. The press have gotten things wrong before, she knows that all too well. They could get this wrong too. She changes the channel but all she can find is that one news story. "We're reporting live from the Cook County Courthouse where we're hearing reports that Illinois Governor Peter Florrick's stepdaughter, Rachel Cavanagh, has been shot and killed. Details are scarce but stick with us as we bring you more on this developing and tragic story," the redhead reporter from one of the local news channels says. It feels like it's all running on a loop. No matter where she goes, what she looks at, it's there staring her in the face.

She can't get a hold of her mom either. Her dad won't tell her anything, and she's too scared to try calling Eli – Rachel and Zach have the balls for that one, she thinks to herself, not her. At the end of the day, all she wants is her mom, but that's not happening right now.

Her hands shake as she dials the next person on her list. "Zach? Y-you need to come home," she manages to stammer out once her older brother picks up the phone.

Just the sound of his voice is a comfort as he asks "What's going on? Why do I need to come home?" There are people around him, she swears she hears a girl laughing.

How is it that he doesn't know? Grace starts to panic, how is she supposed to tell him? How do you tell your brother that your sister might be dead? How do you even begin to put that into words? "Zach, just. . . just please come home," she pleads, and the desperation in her voice sells him on it, sells him on the idea that he needs to go home right now.

Once the phone call is over, she drops to her knees and starts to pray.

XTGWX

Angry doesn't even begin to describe how Kalinda Sharma is feeling right now. It's her second, fifth and seventh emotion and she hasn't felt such white-hot rage since. . . since. . . she doesn't even want to think about her ex-husband at a time like this. She marches past a corridor lined with cops as she's lead to the cell they've put Jeffrey Grant in.

She launches herself at the bars, clinging to them as she watches the interview, listening for any detail possible. "But you do admit to taking the Sheriff's gun?" the detective asks, his voice deep, his tone has just a slight inflection as though confirming.

"But you were angry about Dr Delaney's testimony?" another detective adds.

"His false testimony," Jeffrey's lawyer interjects. Well, he moved on fast. Maybe this woman hangs round courthouses hoping for something like this to happen. All Kalinda knows is that the rage is rising in her.

"We'd rather hear it from your client," the first detective censures the lawyer Kalinda has now convinced herself is an ambulance chaser who's about to throw herself in way over her head. "You were angry about Dr Delaney's testimony?" he asks Jeffrey. The young blonde, who's really just a boy, nods and it sounds like he's struggling to breathe, something Kalinda feels he should know Rachel is probably going through too.

"The accused nodded in assent." She starts to tune it out after a while. If she continues to listen, she's just going to make herself angrier and angrier.

It's difficult though, as the lawyer takes over, blaming literally anyone _but _the kid who grabbed a hold of the gun and shot her friend's kid. She used to want to help people like this. Only a couple of hours ago, she had. She winces as she watches Jeffrey dissolve into a puddle of tears and the lawyer suggests that the detectives 'step out' for a bit. Kalinda can't take it much longer and, putting her hands in her pockets, she marches out once again, her detective friend trailing behind her.

XTGWX

Alicia doesn't go straight home. She's not sure she could right now. Once she leaves the hospital, she walks around aimlessly for a while – an hour, maybe two, she doesn't keep track. She needs to figure out what to say to Zach and Grace. Somehow, her feet lead her to the steps of the courthouse and to the door of the courtroom.

The press have dispersed and she's able to make it through to the police line, her stiletto shod feet treading on shattered glass. She stares at it, this chaos, and she feels oddly numb, almost calm for a moment. She looks down at her phone, there are so many missed calls on it but only two messages – one from Will, and another from Rachel. She ignores Will's message for a moment, another time it might seem more significant; later, it might have meaning.

Right now, though, right now she needs to hear her daughter's voice. Safe in the comfort of the knowledge that she's alive and has made it through the night. "Mom," she hears, suddenly clasping her hand over her mouth, her daughter's voice clear. Someone else says something, she can't quite make out what or who – maybe it's the judge, maybe it's Rachel's co-counsel. "I'll tell you later, I love you Mom," Rachel says, and Alicia smiles softly but she's still left with questions.

Somehow, those questions lead her to the office of Judge Politi. When he opens the door, he's shocked and surprised to see her. She supposes she would be too, given the circumstances. "Mrs Florrick," he sighs, leaning against the door. He looks exhausted. She probably does too.

"Yes, Your Honour, do you have a moment?" she asks. What is she doing? Why is she doing this to herself? She should just turn around and go home. She has two kids who are probably worried sick right now.

"It's not. . ." he trails off for a moment, just a moment "I was about to go home," he explains by way of an excuse.

"It's about Rachel Cavanagh, my daughter," she says.

XTGWX

Alicia is led into the courtroom where it happened, where everything went down. That's what it is now: Everything. There's a part of her that feels sick because her whole life so far has led up to this point. She can see Rachel's shoe, a black patent leather pump with scratches and scuffs, lying alone on the floor. She stares at it. She wants to grab it, almost every part of her wants to grab it and hold it close to her. "The accused got a gun from the sheriff. We were having a sidebar at the bench. He hit the witness as Rachel told everyone to get down. Killed him. Your daughter tried to intervene and take the gun, after Mr Gardner tried to pull her back, and she was hit next. Mr Polmar covered her with his body," the judge's timeline of events eventually draws her focus away from the shoe.

"Mr Polmar?" she asks, Rachel could have mentioned him at some point but everything's a blur and she can barely think straight.

"ASA Polmar. He's new, like your daughter. He was brought in from New York. He stayed with Rachel the whole time, dragged her over to the table. There was gunfire all over, and Mr Gardner followed, holding her hand. The sheriff was firing back at the accused and Mr Polmar was shot dragging Rachel out of the crossfire."

"Polmar stayed with them the whole time?" she questions. Why would someone do that? She could understand Will staying but this Polmar guy? He barely knew Rachel – knows, she has to remind herself that Rachel's still alive, that this isn't quite in the past tense anymore.

"Until the paramedics came. Will stayed too, he was good with her, kept talking to her, kept his hands over the bullet wound." That part almost kills her. She's been trying to hold it together but now, staring out at the scene of the crime, the judge taking her through everything that happened, she clasps a hand over her mouth as a sob escapes from her. But there's still one thing she has to do, she asks what hospital Polmar is at.

XTGWX

Alicia strides back into the hospital, somehow she's managed to pull herself together, realising they've taken Polmar to the same hospital as Rachel. Maybe she can stop in on her eldest daughter, she how she and Will are doing. First though, she has to meet Polmar, she has to thank him.

She looks around the busy reception area until she finsa a nurse at the desk. "What room is Finn Polmar in?" she asks, but the woman – this curly-haired woman in pale green scrubs, puts her hands up to her as she answers the phone. Can't she see the desperation on Alicia's face, the pleading?

Still, Alicia waits – this seems too important to be impatient with a nurse over.

"Sorry, what was that?" the nurse eventually asks and Alicia repeats the name.

"You're looking for Finn?" another woman asks. Alicia whips round. She's tall, she realises, taller than Alicia anyway, with short blonde hair and a patterned dress. She looks almost as distraught as Alicia feels.

"Yes," she answers.

"I'm Maria, his assistant. He's in surgery right now but he should be out soon. You're-" she stops abruptly and Alicia almost smiles. . . almost.

"Alicia Florrick, I just wanted to see if he's alright," she introduces herself.

"Mrs Florrick. He's much better now, thanks. How do you know Finn?" Maria asks, she sounds numb, like she's just going through the motions, asking all the questions an assistant should ask women who visit their boss in the hospital, it just sounds hollow somehow.

"I don't really. My daughter was shot when Finn was. . ." she explains, trailing off as recognition dawns on the other woman's face.

Maria puts her coffee down, "Oh my God, of course, I'm sorry. It was so weird to be with them today and now. . . this."

"You were in court?" Alicia doesn't mean to sound so shocked, but she needs answers, and she needs them now.

"No, in the plea bargain, Rachel offered to get me coffee. Do you know how rare that is? That someone would offer to get an assistant coffee?" It sounds like Rachel, so like Rachel that it's kind of a gut punch. Alicia turns around, unable to take much more of this.

"Do you want me to tell Finn you stopped by?" Maria calls after as Alicia goes to leave, suddenly painfully aware of the two kids she needs to update on their sister's condition.

"No, that's alright."

XTGWX

When Alicia finally gets home, she's shocked by the sight she finds. Grace is on her knees in the middle of the living room, praying, and Zach is curled up on the couch. The news is on, repeating something she knows isn't true. She feels so ashamed and infuriated with herself, why didn't she go straight home? Or at least call one of them? The lights are off, the only way she can see her living room is because of the glow of the large TV. She's not quite sure what to say – this isn't something that was ever covered in the "How to parent a teenager" books she was once so obsessed with. She just wants to take them in her arms and hold onto them and never let go. "Zach? Grace?" she calls out to them.

"MOM!" Zach yells at her, he's angry, she thinks – he has a right to be. Maybe, he's just exasperated. "What happened? They're saying Rachel is. . . is dead," he manages to say. Oh, she definitely should have been home sooner, the guilt arrives on her shoulders like a tonne of bricks. She should have explained things to them. She's not done a very good job, she realises.

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes – not for the first time today. She looks at Grace who's finally seen her. "Your sister _was _shot, but she's going to be okay. The bullet missed most of her internal organs and she should make a full recovery," she explains, keeping details to a minimum.

"We have to go see her!" Grace argues. There's a pleading look in her eye, one Alicia has seen so often in her eldest daughter's that it breaks her heart to see it in her youngest's, one she understands entirely.

She stares at her youngest daughter for a second. "Tomorrow," she chokes out. She can't bare this, the questions, everything she needs to tell them. Instead, she runs to her room like a scared teenager, and collapses into her bed.


End file.
